Yes, Tony, there is a Santa Claus
by Gypsy
Summary: A Christmas present from me to you. Tony experiences a little magic, mystery, and perhapes a little sprinkling of fate on a very snowy day.
1. Chapter 1

This is a little Christmas present from me to you. There will be two, perhaps three parts, and I PROMISE it will all be yours before Christmas....if my lovely beta Mokio will be so kind that is.

As with everything I tend to write, this isn't what I planned to write in the first place. It would seem that what was supposed to be a simple holiday story turned into the first story in my Jace Nicholes series. What can I say, she simply would not take no for an answer. She was tired of me not writing about her and insisted she be included in this. Don't worry, though, if you have a fear of original characters. She doesn't show up till round about the second chapter of this, and I promise she will be different, and interesting. I love her, and I hope you all will too.

This story also includes a character from another fav series of mine, and also will be the other show in which Jace includes herself. This story is not what I want to call a cross-over, I am just borrowing this angelic figure for this story. The cross-overs will come later. You will see who the character is later, and he only makes a single apperence.

I hope you all enjoy this...and have a very Merry Christmas!!!

Yes Tony, There Is A Santa Claus

The windshield wipers swept across the glass, doing little to disturb the rapidly building pile of snow that already concealed much of the view.

Not that one could really see anything, he mused. He squinted his eyes and tried to look through the white flurry that the head lights could hardly break through.

Anthony DiNozzo cursed his luck as he thought of the warm Bahama breezes, sandy beaches, and bikini clad bodies that he was supposed to be seeing right now. Were it not for the fact that Director Vance had cancelled all Christmas vacations. A high profile case had the Sec Nav breathing down his neck to get it solved, and of course he had given Gibbs and his team the brunt of the work.

Tony was sure Vance had been the one to suggest that he drive all the way out to Williamsburg, VA (in the middle of the snow storm of the century) to interview the little old lady who found the body of Major Charles Kellington. He just so happened to be the brother-in-law of the Secretary's golfing partner.

The old woman… Mrs. Potts, he reminded himself… was just as he pictured her from her name. Like the Disney character whose image her name brought to mind, Mrs. Potts was short, round and plump, and reminded Tony of a teapot about to whistle. In fact, her voice was high pitched and squeaky, like a steaming pot of water on the stove. She had been unable to provide him with any further information aside from what she had already given.

The body had been found outside her late Husband's, Clarence's, store.

"_Clarence, __God rest his soul. He left the store to that nephew of his. Well, Marshell…that's our boy, he didn't want it, and I can't say I blame him. But Harry, my husband's nephew that is, jumped at the chance. I feel it my duty to check up on him now and again. Make sure he's keeping it true to Clarence's wishes."_

She had served him tea and a plate of cookies on china so delicate, Tony had been afraid to touch it. He had carefully picked up the cup and saucer the way he saw her do it and looked around the room. Mrs. Potts house reminded him of something out of an old movie. All flowery chintz and lace doilies. Like the boarding house in Arsenic and Old Lace.

At the thought of the old classic, and the nefarious past time of the sweet looking old ladies who ran the establishment, he discreetly put the cup down on the table next to him and tried to concentrate on her words as she rambled on.

"_Clarence was a good, God fearing man, and wouldn't want any of those dirty magazines among his news stand."_

"_Dirty magazines?" Tony questioned, pretending to be taking down notes. He didn't think she would have anything further to offer, and if she did he'd be able to remember it anyway. But holding the pen and note pad looked professional and he always was one for keeping up appearances._

"_You know…" She leaned in close to whisper, 'Nudie magazines."_

"_I see."_

"_Clarence didn't like those at all, and would never stand for them being in his store."_

'_Sure he wouldn't', Tony had thought. It was his opinion that any man who proclaimed to not like or never having looked at an X-rated magazine was either delusional or a damn liar. He kept his thoughts to himself on the subject though. No need to upset the sweet old bird, lest she try to slip him a cup of poison._

"_So, I had gone down to see things for myself, That's where I found him."_

"_Him?"_

"_Your young major."_

"_In the store?"_

"_No, no, of course not. Out back. Behind the trash bins."_

_Tony knew this of course, but had to go through the motions of interviewing. "You where looking behind the trash bins for nudie magazines?"_

"_I thought Harry might be trying to hide them there."_

The rest of the interview had been much the same. Clarence, Harry, nudie magazines and all.

Mrs. Potts was a nice, if little old fashioned, lady who kept trying to offer him cookies, which he appreciated, and to set him up with her granddaughter…. a 'professional dancer'…which he didn't.

He had excused himself at the earliest possible convenience.

Which was how he found himself here on an icy, practically deserted road with the snows of Kilimanjaro heading at him full force. He wondered if the current state of the economy had prevented the city of Williamsburg from getting snow plows and salt trucks out for the season. Or perhaps the weather had been so unexpected they had been unable to get anything out fast enough. Whatever it was, it was costing Tony precious time that he knew his boss was going to take out of his hide. Gibbs had been more of a bear than usual lately, and Tony would be wise to give him as wide a berth as possible.

He thought about calling his boss to report in, let him know he'd be late getting in as he was barely creeping along at 25 MPH, and might not make it back for the scheduled 7:30pm meeting. He was positive neither Gibbs nor Vance would cut him any slack. Vance would simply chalk it up to another DiNozzo screw up, and Gibbs…well hell, Gibbs would never let anything like bad weather keep him from being anywhere on time. He would just glare at the snow so it would move out of his way. Like Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea.

At Tony though, the snow simply laughed. That's what the wind sounded like at any rate. High pitched, maniacal laughter. Taking its amusement from the chump behind the wheel who was afraid to say no to his boss. He shook his head at how sorry a loser he was. One of these days, if not this very night, his eagerness to please was going to get him killed.

A particularly forceful wind whipped through the trees surrounding him, then seemed to change course, barreling down the road directly at him. He could almost make out a face in the swirling snow. A big, evil, demonic face with black eyes and sharp teeth. He gripped the steering wheel so tight he was sure his fingers where going to lock into that position permanently. The wind rocked his vehicle almost off the wheels as it ran into him. He could hear the sound of it screaming past.

Tony let out a breath, surprised to find out he had been holding it, as soon as the car's tires settled back onto the slick, icy road.

Thank God for 4-wheel drive.

He eased back on his speed, going along now at a pace so slow a crawling baby would be able to beat him in a race. He hated such slow speeds, but he wasn't an idiot. Despite not looking forward to Gibbs's wrath at his being so late getting back, he also didn't want to find himself splattered about the highway. Better to go at a snail's pace and live, than try to beat his best time again and end up wrapped around a telephone pole.

So concentrated was he on the obscured road before him, that the sudden trilling of his cell phone on the seat beside him made him jump.

"Man." He said to the air around him. "You are such a wuss sometimes, DiNozzo."

With difficulty, he managed to unwrap one hand from its grip around the steering wheel, wincing in pain as his fingers straightened out. Not taking his eyes from the approaching tunnel of whirling snow, he reached for the ringing, vibrating contraption. He knew who it would be on the other end, and although he heeded the dangers of talking on the phone while driving in such weather, he also knew that not answering the call would be a much more dangerous prospect.

"DiNozzo." He answered, shocked at the breathy quality in his voice. The rapidly beating heart might have had something to do with it.

"Where the hell are you?"

Ah yes. Gibbs always did like to get the pleasantries out of the way first.

"No idea, Boss."

When he had left the witnesses house, he had headed out on highway 15, but he wasn't sure if that was the road he was on anymore. He hadn't seen a road sign for almost an hour.

"You were supposed to be back here an hour ago."

"Yes, well, it seemed Old Man Winter had another opinion on the subject."

He could hear Gibbs mutter a swear word under his breath. When he spoke up again, all gruffness was gone from his voice. "Pretty bad out there, huh?"

Tony grinned at the understatement. "Ever seen Day After Tomorrow?"

"What?"

Of course he hadn't. "Day After Tomorrow. Great flick. Dennis Quaid plays a guy who tries to warn the government of an approaching ice age. Of course they don't listen to him and half the country freezes. Awesome storm scenes."

"DiNozzo."

"I know you only like Harrison Ford movies, Boss, but there's only so many times you can watch Witness."

"DiNozzo."

"Now, to be fair, Kelly McGillis is pretty hot, but I thought she looked better in Top Gun."

"DiNozzo, shut up."

"Shutting up, Boss."

He could just picture Gibbs rubbing his fingers at that spot on the side of his temple. It wasn't that he meant to be a nuisance, but right now being able to annoy someone gave him a rest from fearing for his life.

"Anywhere you can stop till this blows over?"

Tony grinned. Gibbs might not come right out and say it, but he cared. "That would be a great idea, Boss, were it not for the fact I can't see two feet in front of me. I might have passed hundreds of hotels by now. No real way to tell."

"Shit."

"That about sums it up. At this point I think the best bet is to keep going."

"Tony, don't…."

There was a loud crackle of static that had Tony turning his ear away, then silence.

"Gibbs?"

The absence of an answer was all the answer he needed.

Crap. Weather must be interfering with cell phone service now. Gibbs would blow a gasket if he couldn't contact any of his team. There was always a chance McGee could track him down through the GPS tracker, but then what could they do? There was no way Tony wanted anyone else coming out in this after him. He was on his own now.

He switched on the radio for the background noise. He couldn't stand silence in the best of times. In the worst, too much quiet tended to distract him rather then let him concentrate on the matter at hand.

He found a classic country station and decided that was better than anything else up for offer. If one must listen to country, better it was the older stuff. Hank Williams,…both of them. Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, with some Kenny Rogers and Alabama thrown in for good measure.

He found as he grew older that he couldn't stand the noise that passed for music these days anymore. Before he would know it, he'd be that old man who bangs his cane on the ceiling and yells at the young kids on the upper floor to turn the noise down.

It wasn't that he feared getting older, it was just all the wondering where all the time had gone to. He knew he wasn't considered old yet, but he wasn't young anymore. Back when he was playing ball in college, he thought when he reached his current age he'd have achieved the American Dream.

Great career, beautiful wife, 2.3 kids.

Oh well. He supposed one out of three wasn't a total wash out.

As Ducky often told him, he still had plenty of time. But he suspected now that it wasn't worth it.

After Jeanne…he just didn't want to set himself up for any kind of heart ache again. Better to go it alone.

Anthony DiNozzo. The lone wolf.

The very, very lonely wolf.

"Stop it, you putz." He muttered. He couldn't afford right now to let his jumbled, disjointed thoughts get carried away.

With squinted eyes, he strained to see beyond the whirling wall of white that had become his world. It might be his imagination, but he could almost swear he saw a shadow. A dark spot among the white. Sure, there wasn't much light out anymore. In another hour it would be pitch black. But this dark spot had shape. This spot was….moving?

Oh…Oh shit!

A universal truth known by all drivers lucky enough to learn to maneuver through snow and ice is to never slam on the brakes. It will not improve your situation. But as others had learned before him, instinct had a way of overriding common sense. Before he had time to mentally head slap himself for pressing his right foot down hard on the brake pedal, he felt the rear end of the vehicle start to fishtail.

The shadow, which had the form of a deer, jumped away into the darkness.

Tony did his best to get the car back under control, but the tires had the luck to find a particularly icy patch, and the government owned car did a pretty impressive spin before slamming nose first into a large snow drift.

The momentum threw Tony forward, his forehead glancing off the edge of the steering wheel before the seatbelt across his middle drove him back.

The passenger side air bag went off.

"Ouch." Tony, said, his hand going to the now painful spot on his forehead. His fingers touched something wet and warm. Drawing his hand back, he looked down to see the blood. "Just perfect."

A look in the rearview mirror showed him he had a small, but nicely bleeding cut in the middle of his forehead. It wasn't serious, but he knew from experience that head wounds always bled like a bitch. Pulling a linen handkerchief from his coat pocket, he held the cloth to the wound.

The handkerchief had been a gift from Abby last Christmas. She'd given him a set of 5, all black of course, with his initials embroidered in red on either side of a white skull and cross bones. When he told her he'd now stained one with his blood she would probably think it was cool.

Injury now somewhat taken care of, he took stock of the rest of the situation. The car was no longer running, although the battery allowed the radio to continue playing. Elvis Presley crooned about a Blue Christmas. He knew the radio would only continue to play for a few minuets longer, and then he'd be stuck out here in the silence. Flipping his cell open, he prayed that a signal would show, but the phone showed no service.

Great. Let's see Anthony, middle of nowhere, wrecked car, injury, deserted highway, and no cell service.

Yep. About par for course. All he needed now was for the aliens, or at least Bigfoot to show up, and it had the makings of a great movie.

He knew his options where limited. He could either stay here in a stalled car and freeze to death, or take his chances of going out in the storm to find help and likely freezing to death. Neither option was very appealing to him.

Gene Autry's voice came through the speakers accompanied by the ringing of sleigh bells.

_Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus…._The radio went dead.

Tony thought he wouldn't mind if the old guy would show up. A sleigh and flying reindeer would be a step up at this point.

----------------

The thought had barely left his mind when he was blinded by the reflection of a bright light in the mirror. He could hear the rumble of a truck engine behind him.

This could mean a variety of things. His rescue had come like an answer to a prayer, …a transient serial killer had come upon him,…or the head injury was worse then he thought and he was hallucinating.

In the past, with his job, all three had already happened to him.

At the moment, though, he was willing to take what he got.

Wrapping his coat tightly around this throat, he opened the car door just as a large man in a puffy red coat reached him.

"You all right there, young fella?"

The man was older. By the look of him he could have been anywhere from late 50's to early 80's. It was kind of hard to tell. The neatly clipped white beard hid most of his jaw line, and his clear blue eyes where unlined and ageless.

Tony would have made a joke about Santa Claus coming to town or something along those lines, but didn't want to take the chance of offending his possible savior at so early a meeting. The guy probably got that kind of thing all the time.

"Yeah." Tony replied, the black handkerchief still pressed to his wound. "Car's kind of out of commission. You wouldn't happen to have a cell phone on you, would you?"

"Can't say that I do. Don't have any real use for such things."

"Fantastic." He really, really hated being sent out to the boondocks.

"Looks like you got yourself a pretty nasty cut there."

"It's alright." Tony said, removing the cloth and hoping the blood flow had been staunched.

The old man leaned in to take a better look. "Still, it needs looking after."

"I've had worse. Look, Mr.…?"

"Name's Nick."

"Nick. Alright, Nick, I'm Tony. You don't think you could give me a ride to the nearest service station, do you? I need to call someone. It's important." He gave his best, charming, good-guy smile. It had been known in the past to melt the hearts of women everywhere. He was hoping it would have something of a positive effect on grandfatherly old men who showed up out of nowhere in snowstorms like a guardian angel.

"I can do better then that. I'll hook your car up and take you to Becca's."

"Becca's?"

"Runs a diner and motel just down the way. Best place around. I really don't think you'll be going anywhere else tonight, and you look like you could use a good meal."

Tony sighed. Nick had a point. There was no getting back to D.C. in this weather, and he was hungry. And now he had a headache.

"Does Becca have a phone?"

"Well, sure she does, son!" The old man exclaimed, as though it where the mother of all stupid questions.

He really didn't have any other option, and if the guy turned out to be a back woods cannibal, Tony still had his gun and belt buckle knife to protect himself with. He would simply have to take the chance.

"Okay."

"Good! Now you just get yourself on up in the cab. Get warm. There's a thermos on the seat. Help yourself."

"I can't let you…." Tony began, reluctant to let a man of his obvious years hook up the car all by himself.

"Nonsense, boy. Been doing it all my life."

"I…"

"Now, son. The quicker you get in the truck, the quicker we can get going. Can't be having someone like you freeze to death, Tony."

"Like me?"

"Yes, that's it."

Tony felt like his head was swimming, and he knew it wasn't from the little bump he had taken. Nick was something of a whirlwind, it would seem. He felt a hand take hold of his elbow and guide him to the truck cab.

It was a large red tow truck, a big snow plow attached to the front. Tony suspected the man had been out plowing the roads, and wondered at his luck that Nick had come upon him so soon after the accident.

Three lights sat atop the truck's roof. The ones on the left and right shone pure, white light. The one in the middle was red. Out of habit, he glanced down at the license plate. The Virginia issued plate was somewhat caked with snow and ice, but he could make out the lettering. They where vanity plates spelling out R-U-D-O-L-F.

Nick made sure Tony was seated comfortably in the cab, the warm thermos in his hands. He drove the truck around to hook the wreaked car up and drag it out of the snow drift.

Tony sat staring at the ordinary, green thermos in his hands. An everyday, sturdy object. Army issue, if he wasn't mistaken. The heat coming from the inside of it made his hand warm all over, and he wanted to burry the thing inside his coat, against his suddenly chilled skin. How was it he hadn't realized he was so cold before?

He twisted the cap open and pored a helping of the contents into the provided cup. If it where poisoned, he was past caring.

The cup was to his lips, taking a sip, when Nick climbed into the driver's seat.

"All set." He said, brushing snow off his red ski gloves. He smiled at his passenger. "Like that?"

"It's hot chocolate!" Tony had been surprised, expecting coffee. Strong and black, the way Gibbs drank it. Instead, the smooth taste of chocolate hit his taste buds. It was very good. He could detect the slightest hint of peppermint in there. Like someone had swizzled a candy cane in it while mixing.

"Of course it is." Nick said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Best thing on a winter's night, don't you think?"

Tony didn't answer, not having much experience at drinking cocoa on a winter's night. He wasn't much for hot drinks, drinking coffee only for the caffeine boost it gave him. This was good, though, he thought as he took another sip. Real good. "What kind is it?" He asked, wanting to take a mental note of the brand name in case he ever wanted to pick some up for himself.

"Homemade." Nick said proudly. "Old family recipe."

"Let me guess." Tony grinned at him over the rim of the cup. "If you told me the secret, you'd have to kill me. Right?"

Nick laughed. A deep, rumbling sound that shook his whole body. "Wouldn't go that far."

"So, you live around here?"

Nick handled the icy roads like they weren't even there. To Tony, it felt like they where not even riding on the road, by gliding over it. He peered down suspiciously into the dark brown cocoa. What was in this stuff?

"Oh no. I just come through every so often. My home's farther north. How about you?"

"Georgetown." Tony answered. "I work in D.C.."

"Washington! Got some good friends there myself."

"Yeah, well, I got sent out here for my job. My boss is going to blow a gasket if he can't reach me."

"Worry about you a lot, does he?"

"It's what he does."

Tony didn't know why he was telling Nick, a complete stranger, all this. He only knew that he was, and that it didn't feel strange. The older man's very presence seemed to invite conversation.

"Doing a job so close to Christmas?" Nick shook his head sadly. "That's no way to spend the holiday, son."

Tony's shrug was nonchalant. "I don't mind. Not usually. Except…" he waved a hand at the flying snow."

"Yeah. Unusual weather for around here, this time of year. I don't normally hit this much snow until round about the Great Lakes region. Boy, can the snow fly there. Had a few close calls in Cleveland. What people where thinking building a city on the shores of such a large lake…" He shook his head in the wonder of it all.

Tony stared at him and blinked a few times, not sure what the old man was talking about. He decided to just nod his head in a show of agreement and turn his eyes back to the window.

Nick snuck a glance at his passenger out of the corner of his eye. The young man was starring hypnotically into the tunnel-like effect of the snow. "Do you like snow, Tony?"

"Yes." He answered. "I mean... no. It's cold."

"Kind of has to be, son. Can't have snow without cold. Sure is pretty. I remember the first time I saw snow. Thought I'd found heaven."

"It isn't so bad, I guess. When you're not trapped in a car buried nose first in it."

Another rumbling laugh. "True, true."

"Is this what you do?" Tony asked. "Rescue stranded motorists?"

"No. I…do a lot of things. Seem to travel a lot. This time of year is usually busy for me."

"You a truck driver?"

"Sometimes. I do make more then my fair share of deliveries."

"Sounds lonely."

"Not at all. I meet lots of nice people. Look at tonight. I met you, didn't I?"

"What makes you think I'm nice?"

"You can't hide what you are. It shines out of you. You are a light, Tony. You draw people to you. Mark of a good heart, I'd say."

Now it was Tony's turn to laugh. "I'm sure a lot of people would disagree with you."

"Including you?"

The question stopped Tony short. He was suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the ride. "I…don't understand."

"Oh. You do. Every once in a while, Tony, you should look at yourself from someone else's eyes."

"No offense, sir, but you don't know me, and I…"

"Not true. I know you. Been riding together for a full 15 minuets now, haven't we? In my life, that makes us old friends."

"You must have a strange life."

"You have no idea, son. No idea at all."

The truck came to a stop, and it took Tony's eyes a full minute until he could see a faint glow through the snow and darkness. They where several feet away from a low, square shaped structure. A red sign was lit up near the doorway, proclaiming the establishment to be 'open'.

"Here we are." Nick said, preparing to climb out.

"Just keep your head down and walk straight. I'm sure Becca will get you warmed up in no time. She likes the 'little lost boy' look."

"I'm not lost." Tony said. He climbed out of the truck, pulling the collar of his coat around his face as he headed for the door.

"Oh yes you are, Tony. More so than you realize." Nick spoke to the air as he watched his new charge head for the building. "This is going to be an interesting one."


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay. I know I said it would all be done by Christmas. This does not look to be the case. At this point I'm not too hopeful about New Years either. Please forgive me._

_I hope you all don't have a problem with reading a Christmas story in late January._

_I want this story to be the best it can be._

_Thanks again to Moki. Without her invaluable help, I would know what to do with this. _

* * *

Yes Tony, There Is A Santa Claus

Part two

The inside of Becca's diner had a retro look, but not in the way people today thought a 50's diner should look. There were red, white and black booths to be sure, and the long counter top that separated the kitchen area from the dinning was made of a glassy white laminate, but that is where the similarities with modern 50's décor ended.

The floor was wood, stained a dark back, instead of white and black checker board tiles to popular in retro design. There were no records or Elvis posters up on the walls. Instead, they remained unadorned, and painted in a soft cream tone.

The lack of artwork was made up for by the fact that the entire front wall was all windows. Each one framed by gauzy white curtains embroidered with little red flowers.

It might not be the best decorated place Tony had ever seen, but it was warm, and bright. The smell of burgers on the grill and fries in the vat reminded him he hadn't eaten that day, aside from Mrs. Potts's snicker doodle cookies.

A woman, probably anywhere from 30 to 60 looked up at their entrance. Her eyes lit up, and she rushed from behind the counter to throw her arms around the portly man at Tony's side.

"Nick! Where have you been? We've missed you around here."

Nick laughed as he squeezed her to him. Tony had never seen someone's whole body shake like that when they laughed. Nick seemed to delight in making the sound.

"You know me, Becca. Got lots to do around this time."

"You should always make time for friends, Nick. Who is this?" She asked, taking in Tony with one sweep of her gaze. Her eyes lingered on the cut on his forehead. It had stopped bleeding, but Tony knew there was dried blood on his face. He could feel it cracking as he gave Becca his best, most charming smile.

"Nick was my angel of mercy."

"Tony here had an accident." Nick explained.

"Oh my." Becca stepped forward to see the injury closer. "Are you alright?"

Tony could now see that this woman was not young, but neither was she older. The look of her face was timeless. Her eyes held a tenderness that almost had Tony won over. This woman had a mothering streak in her that ran deep, and he could feel the boy inside of him responding to it.

"I'm fine, ma'am." He said, doing his best to sound like the polite boy his mother had tried to teach him to be. "If you'd show me where the restroom is, I can wash this off, and I should be good to go.

"Nonsense." She said, taking his arm and leading him to a seat at the counter. He could hear Nick chuckling as he followed along behind them.

Becca sat Tony down and reached around the counter, producing a small white box topped with a red cross.

"That's really not necessary." he insisted, suddenly fearing stinging alcohol. "I've had much worse. I'll be fine with just washing my face off."

"Come now. Any injury has the potential of being bad. Shouldn't you know that by now, Tony?"

"Excuse me?" Her question confused him, but she offered no further comment as she opened the box and withdrew a clean, white gauze pad.

"This won't hurt a bit, don't you worry."

He watched through wary eyes as she took a small spray bottle and lightly spritzed the pad with a clear liquid. It was a big departure from the dark, thick, awful smelling iodine that Ducky usually used on his cuts and bruises. Tony suspected the Scottish ME used the old fashioned antiseptic on him as a sort of punishment for all the reckless scraps he seemed to get into.

As Becca placed the pad against his forehead, he screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the burning sensation that usually accompanied the cleaning out of open cuts. But to his surprise he only felt a gentle warming sensation. It was soothing, relaxing. He opened his eyes to meet Becca's gentle brown ones. She smiled at him like a mother would her child.

"This will take all the pain away."

"What is that stuff?" He asked, immediately wanting to turn Ducky onto it. It even smelled nice. An almost spicy scent.

"Just some natural herbs, water. A little secret I've know for years."

"You guys and your secret recipes. You could both be rich if you cared to share them with the rest of us."

"Don't care much for riches, son. Besides, the world already knows all the secrets, most just don't care to look for them." Nick said from his seat beside Tony.

"Sounds very new-age there, Nick."

"Aw. New-Age, Old-Age, all the same to me."

"There." Becca placed a small butterfly bandage on the cut and smiled proudly. "Doesn't even need stitches."

"Thanks." Tony said, his fingers reaching to feel the now bandaged wound. The pain was completely gone. "You must be angel." He said, giving Becca a toothy grin.

"Not exactly." She said, walking back to her place behind the counter. "We're a different breed, aren't we Nick?"

"Yep." Nick answered, sipping from a steaming cup of tea that Tony hadn't noticed he had before. When in the world did he get that? "I'd say we're more like Saints, wouldn't you?

"You are at least."

"Saints?" Tony said, a laugh escaping him as he shed himself of his heavy wool coat. It was nice and toasty inside the diner, and he began to feel better than he had all night. "So, Saint Nick, where are the flying reindeer?"

"Oh, I don't need them much anymore. Sleigh became obsolete about 50 or so years ago." The way he delivered the lines was so serious that it took Tony a minute before he could see that Nick was pulling his leg.

"Right."

"Stop teasing him, Nick." Becca placed a glass in front of him and poured a finger full of amber colored liquid into it. "Try that." She said.

Tony could have kissed her. He drank down the smooth scotch with one swallow. He felt the burn all the way down to the pit of his stomach. "Damn, that's good."

Becca grinned. "Ought to be. I've had that bottle sitting around for years. Nick here brought it for Christmas one time. How old is that stuff again, Nick?"

"Bout 100, give or take."

"100?!" Tony blinked. "I just drank 100 year old scotch?"

"Don't sound so shocked, boy. It won't kill you."

"I know, its just. Wow." He turned the glass that previously held what could have possibly been the world's greatest alcohol he'd ever had in his hands. "My boss would love that stuff."

"I'm afraid that was the last of it."

"Figures."

Tony thought of the bottle of Gentleman Jack with the red bow stuck to it sitting under the tiny, cheaply decorated tree in his apartment. It was his normal gift to Gibbs, and the older man always accepted it with thanks, but just once he wanted to really wow his boss. See those cold blue eyes widen in surprise. Have the man he secretly viewed as a surrogate father smile at him with genuine appreciation.

"Think a lot of him, don't you?"

"Huh?"

Nick now had a thick slice of perfectly golden, warm apple pie in front of him. Tony looked up and down the counter, but could see no dessert display. Becca must be the fastest worker on the planet. He never even saw her bring the pie.

"Your boss."

"What makes you think that?"

"It's in your tone of voice. You say 'Boss' like you're talking about the Almighty Himself."

Tony smiled. "Well, Gibbs can put the fear of God into people better then any fire and brimstone preacher I've ever known."

"Sounds like an interesting man."

"That's one way of putting it."

Becca appeared again from behind the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She placed a laminated menu in front of Tony. "I change the menus everyday." She said, wiping down an already clean spot on the countertop. "Sort of like only serving the specials. I think having a set menu can be a little boring, don't you? Although I will fry you up a burger, if you prefer."

"I'd go for the fried chicken, son." Nick said, looking over Tony's shoulder at the offerings. "Nobody cooks it like Becca can."

"Stop it with the flattery, you old coot."

"Fired chicken sounds great. I'm starving."

"Coming right up."

"Oh, wait." Tony couldn't believe he had almost forgotten. He needed to call Gibbs. His boss was likely doing all but climbing the wall right about now. Not being able to keep in touch with those on his team was Gibbs's biggest pet peeve. If he could not reach who he wanted at any certain time, he tended to bellow at anyone else around him. He needed to save Ziva and McGee from his wrath.

"Can I use your phone? I need to make an important call."

"Sorry, sweetie." Becca said with an apologetic shrug. "Storm took out the phone lines about an hour ago. Nobody can get through."

"Damn." He reached into his pocket to take out his cell. 'Bra-less' as Ziva would say. Crap, he was stuck. And Gibbs would rip him a new one by the time he actually got home. He sighed. You're doomed, Tony….doomed.

"Don't worry so much." Nick clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You'll be alright."

"It's not the here and now I'm scared of." Tony said, staring at his cell phone screen as if his very gaze could make it work.

"Tony, you don't have a thing to be worried about. Everything will work out as it should."

"It might work out with me not having a job."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Nick stood up and stretched out his back. Tony could see that although he was a bit on the chunky side, he was also solidly built, and strong. This was a man used to hard work. "Now, I have to visit the boys room. Keep an eye on the door, Tony. Always keep an eye on the door. You never know what might come through it."

Tony watched the man walk toward the restrooms on the other end of the diner. Nick was certainly a strange man.


End file.
